All I Want Is You
by ShinyObjects
Summary: Vic and Walt try to figure out their relationship after all they've been through. (Takes place post Season 5, ignoring Season 6)
1. Chapter 1

At the end of season 5 I had one question: What will Vic do? Since season six hadn't started yet, I decided to guess where it might go.

Confession: two words of dialogue in the first chapter are straight from Craig Johnson, but the situation is different. If you've never read the Longmire books, you NEED to. So much better than fanfic, and it's where the Walt/Vic dynamic started.

Written from Vic's point of view, since Walt gets his say in the books.

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All I Want Is You

Chapter 1

Talk about a bad day. THIS was a bad day. Being a cop in Philly may have been a shitty job, but at least I'd never ended up covered in actual shit. This was at least the second time since moving to Durant that this had happened. It didn't help that Walt and Ferg were laughing at me. Oh, they were hiding it well enough—they knew better —but I could see they were straining to hide their grins.

I'd responded to a simple enough domestic disturbance. And this time it wasn't even Omar and whoever he was married to lately. Or Lucian shooting at crows. No, this domestic disturbance involved sheep, and not in an amusing way. How I'd ended up in the mud in the pen was anybody's guess. I was only trying to keep a pair of assholes from beating each other senseless. Next time, I'll just let them at each other. Hell, maybe I'll even arm them so they can get it over with quickly. And it didn't help that by the time my so-called backup arrived, the couple in question was furiously making up, not at all disturbed by the mud and the muck. Damn it all to hell. This was absolutely the last time I tried to help anyone.

"Come on, I'll give you a ride to my place. You can clean up there." At least Walt had managed to stop smiling. It appeared he was over his initial amusement and was back to business as usual, thank God. I am so done being the brunt of Ferg's "city girl" jokes.

Walt was right. His place was just a few miles away. Washing up there was definitely preferable to driving all the way back to town, or worse yet, to my place. I hated the idea of walking into my trailer covered in shit, and pulling off all my clothes while still outside would have gained far more attention from Travis and Joe Mega than I wanted. Walt had transported worse things than a smelly deputy before, and I'd rather get his truck dirty than mine, so I climbed in the Bronco and let Ferg take my truck.

"Don't. Even. Start." I threatened as we pulled onto the highway. I was in no mood to hear any advice Walt had to give on how to deescalate a situation without becoming the situation. I knew I'd messed up, and I didn't necessarily want to talk about it at this particular moment.

Walt briefly raised his hands above his head in mock surrender. "I didn't say a thing," he responded calmly, while concentrating on the road. That was one thing about Walt—he wasn't into teasing or making others feel bad.

He allowed me to suffer in silence until we reached the cabin. "Leave your boots on the porch and your clothes on the washer. I'll take care of 'em." Chivalry was always alive where Walt was concerned, but doing laundry… that was a whole new level. I decided not to question it and take him up on the offer. Of course he stayed outside while I shed my clothes in his laundry room and tiptoed to his shower.

I don't know when he did it, but when I turned off the water and pulled back the curtain, there on the edge of the sink were two clean towels, a t-shirt, and a pair of shorts. I managed to get what I assumed were a pair of Walt's boxers to stay on my hips with a bit of pulling and tucking, so I wasn't too indecent when I left the bathroom.

I must have stayed in the shower longer than planned, because Walt was on the couch, sans hat, coat, and boots, with feet propped up on the table and paperwork spread out around him. Still toweling off my wet hair, I sat next to him, pulling my feet up on the couch, and leaning my knees against his thigh. He didn't seem to mind the intrusion into his personal space.

"What have you got here?" I asked, looking at the papers spread around him.

"Ballistics report on that shooting last week," he responded, staring at the papers. I took the one he offered and studied it.

"That trajectory's all wrong," I muttered, looking over the diagrams. "That doesn't fit at all with the witness statement."

"Yup," he said, having already come to that conclusion. "Either the bullets are lying or the witness is." He stacked up the papers and seemed to notice me there next to him for the first time. He relaxed a bit more into the couch, leaning his head back and draping a hand across my knees. He breathed deeply while taking in my wet hair and no-make-up face. "You smell really good," he murmured, continuing to stare while he said it.

"Well I used your soap and shampoo, so I probably smell like you," I said, unable to keep a smile from creeping onto my face.

"No, that's not it," he replied rather seriously. Keeping his eyes on mine, he stretched his arm around my back and pulled me closer. I responded by snuggling down lower and resting my wet head on his shoulder.

"Thanks for the shower. And the clothes," I whispered feebly, not sure what else to say.

"No problem. They look better on you than on me." That got a smile out of both of us.

Not sure where the conversation was headed, I tried not to think too hard, and just relaxed into him, content to be sharing a peaceful moment.

"I know," he said softly, after a few minutes of silence, so softly I wasn't entirely sure he'd said it. I tilted my head so I could see his face, trying to determine if he was talking about what I thought he was.

"The baby. I know you're pregnant." He let the truth hang there, not judging, not searching for explanations, just the truth.

My breath stopped. Maybe my heart did, too. But I made myself breathe out the next few words. "Was pregnant. No longer. Not anymore." I had to turn from his gaze when I said it, not sure how to continue.

His words were so quiet, so careful, I almost missed them. "Are you okay?" he said with a bit of anxiety in his voice. "What happened? If … if I can ask, that is."

"You can ask," I replied softly. "Chance Gilbert happened. Or his bat-shit crazy sister-wife did. Everything was fine after she attacked me, but a couple days later … it wasn't fine. I lost the baby." I had to stop speaking when my heart stuck in my throat. I still wasn't sure how I felt. I was relieved and sad all at the same time. How do you express something like that? Yes, I wanted to have kids someday. Yes, I was sad this wasn't the day. I was profoundly sad for the unborn life that I'd known only briefly, but I had to admit I was also relieved—so very selfishly relieved. This pregnancy wasn't planned. It wasn't started in love. I would have loved the child, but I did not want my life tied to Travis's, or Eamon's, or even Sean's. There was only one man I wanted that connection with—the one holding me—and I felt like I'd betrayed him, like I'd cheated on him. I know we don't have that kind of relationship, but the specifics of the relationship don't matter. The only relevant fact is that my heart belongs to him, whether he wants it or not. I'd betrayed that love by making stupid, irresponsible decisions that I would always regret. The fact that I no longer faced the life-changing repercussion of those decisions was small consolation to the grief and pain I'd dealt with since. Even though I was no longer pregnant, I knew that it would always be a barrier between Walt and me. The relationship my heart longed for was no longer possible and I had no one but myself to blame.

After a while I realized that I'd stopped talking. Walt continued to hold me while tears slipped silently down my cheeks. He asked no questions, made no demands, and didn't try to shush me. He just held me and let me weep.

When my brain stopped replaying the last few months of my life, and allowed me to return to the present, I took a few deep breaths and exhaled slowly.

"I'm so sorry, Vic. I'm sorry you have to go through this. I'm sorry I didn't know. I'm sorry there's nothing I can do. I'm just … so, so sorry." He pressed his lips to the top of my head and held me closer. There was nothing I could say, so we just stayed that way until I drifted off to sleep.

I woke the next morning to the sounds and smell of breakfast. I slowly remembered where I was. Walt's couch. Wrapped in a scratchy wool blanket. Wearing his clothes. Face a mess from crying myself to sleep. Hair a mess from falling to sleep with it wet. I decided to make a vain attempt at minimizing my embarrassment by sneaking off to the bathroom where I tied up my hair, washed my face, and did my best to look resilient. I wrapped Walt's bathrobe around me before joining him in the kitchen. A mug of coffee, made just the way I like it, waited for me. Walt turned toward me as I sat on the stool by his kitchen island.

"How many eggs can you eat this morning? I'm guessing three." He seemed awfully cheerful for a guy who'd spent the evening washing shitty clothes and consoling a formerly knocked-up deputy. "Made bacon, too," he added with a smile.

"You're awfully chipper this morning," I ventured warily, locking eyes with him over my mug. "I didn't know you liked cooking breakfast this much."

"Well, I like eating breakfast," he admitted, returning his gaze to the stove. "And today I get to share it with one of my favorite people, so that makes cooking it not so bad."

I gave him one of my famous head tilts. "Favorite people? Really?"

His gaze turned back to me and he looked almost hurt. "Of course you are." He paused while he flipped the eggs. "Of course you are," he repeated feebly, almost to himself, like he was considering exactly what that meant.

It wasn't long before the eggs were done and he placed two plates on the butcher block, refilled the coffee mugs, and sat on the stool across from me. "Dig in!" he added with that same cheerfulness from a moment ago. I rewarded him with a smile before stuffing my mouth with a forkful of eggs.

After a few moments of silence I managed to speak. "Thank you, Walt." I had to pause for a minute. "I mean it. Thank you. For everything." I didn't have the strength to tell him what everything was, but I had the feeling he knew.

"You're welcome, Vic. You are always welcome." And I knew what he meant, too.


	2. Chapter 2

It occurs to me, as I re-read the Longmire books, that Book Vic is less vulnerable and insecure than TV Vic, and is definitely in charge of the relationship between her and Walt. In fact, it's one of the things I like about the characters – the strong man is in love with, and not the least bit intimidated by, the fierce woman. So I decided it's time for Vic to reclaim her strength. Apologies to author Craig Johnson for building on what he created. The job application scene below is his (but I can't remember which book), but I embellished it. His description of Rob Taylor (a quote from the movie Always) is also below, because it's just so apropos.

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All I Want Is You

Chapter 2

Suddenly self-conscious with our moment of honestly, I broke eye contact with Walt and glanced around the room, noticing my clean clothes folded neatly on a chair. I'd momentarily forgotten that he had washed, and apparently dried and folded, my uniform. As Walt picked up the breakfast dishes, I excused myself, picked up the clothes, and headed to his bathroom.

I had an indescribable feeling of lightness as I got dressed. Now that Walt knew about the pregnancy, there were no secrets between us, and I felt a dread receding that I hadn't even been aware of. Yes, I'd have to fill him in on the embarrassment that is Travis and Eamonn, but I would do that at a time of my choosing. I felt like today offered a fresh start and it was time I reclaimed my true self. I'd let Walt's reticence toward me influence my actions for too long. It was time for a return to what made me, me. I'd never before worried about what people thought and it was time I found that power again. I wanted to be with Walt. There were no more reasons to keep us apart. Philly Vic was back. Watch out, Sheriff Longmire.

When I came out of the bedroom, Walt was finishing his coffee, looking over the headlines in yesterday's paper. He was standing at the kitchen counter, with one hip cocked out the way he does. Lord, help me. I was going to have to pace myself. I didn't want to scare the man to death. At least… not yet.

I plucked our gun belts off the desk and handed him his. Since my jacket was in my unit, I threw his coat over my shoulders and plopped his hat on his head before heading for the door. "Come along, Cowboy" I threw over my shoulder as he smiled and grabbed his famous "Drinking Fuel" thermos.

Once outside, I stopped short on his porch. I didn't get to see this view very often, and when I did, it never failed to take my breath away. He almost ran into me after closing the door, and gave me a puzzled look. "I can see why you live here," I breathed, noticing my breath was visible in the morning air.

Walt paused for a second. "Yup. Makes you appreciate life a bit more, doesn't it?" After a glance my way, I heard a "Come along, City Girl," as he headed to his truck.

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The morning was too quiet. Ferg had been working nights, which not only covered the hours, but accommodated his fishing schedule. I did nothing by paperwork while Walt visited a widow who was seeing angels on her property. When he returned I saw from my window perch that he headed straight for the Busy Bee.

"What would you like for lunch, Ruby?" I called distractedly while watching him cross the street.

"Nothing for me, dear. I'll eat later. You go ahead."

Not being one to argue with Ruby, I headed down to the Bee. Walt was in his usual place by the usual cashier drinking his usual coffee. The place next to him was set and featured my usual ice tea. I smiled at the thought that I was included in the ritual. "What's the usual today?" I ran my hand over his back and down his arm as I sat. As I intended, he noticed, and watched as I picked up my drink and brought the straw to my lips.

"Something with avocado and sprouts, I think. Right up your alley."

Just then, Dorothy dropped two turkey sandwiches in front of us, disappearing without a word. Apparently, her day was not as slow as ours. Without thinking or asking, I took the avocado and sprouts off Walt's sandwich, adding them to mine, and moved the cheese and half the meat from mine, adding it to his. It hadn't occurred to me, until I noticed his amused look, that this had become our habit. We'd grown so used to each other that we knew each other's preferences, down to the lunch order. When had that happened? When had we become so comfortable in our ritual and familiarity?

My first memory of Walt was the day I had the misguided thought to apply for a job as a deputy. Sean and I had been in Durant for a few months and I was bored beyond belief.

I'd shown up at the Absaroka County Sheriff office on the off chance they were hiring. I remember Ruby being very nice. She called me "sweetie" and said I could sit at the empty desk to fill out an application. While I was doing that, the tallest, skinniest, most weathered cowboy I'd ever seen walked into the adjacent office. He threw his coat on a chair, slammed his hat on the coat rack, and let out a long, frustrated sigh while he glared out the window, hands on his hips, cloudy expression on his face. He stood like that for a moment before noticing me, glancing my way with a bit of surprise, staring for a moment, then plopping down in his desk chair to glare at paperwork he'd picked up from the desk. I had the feeling he was watching me, which I told myself was ridiculous. It was just that I found him incredibly distracting, and wasn't entirely sure why. Trying to focus on explaining my previous experience, all I could think about was the sight of those well-worn boots, faded Levi's and a silver belt buckle. His hands were long and thin. His shoulders square, back straight. Six foot three of twisted steel and sex appeal. I was completely lost in my thoughts, wondering what his arms would feel like under that denim shirt. I imagined the stubble of his chin against my cheek. Good god, I was a mess. How was I supposed to list my professional accomplishments when all I could think about was rough hands touching my skin?

I don't mean to sound cocky, but all my life men have stared at me, not the other way around. Usually, men fall all over themselves trying to get me to notice them. Few men have actually succeeded in getting, and keeping, my attention. This was different. Suddenly my mind was in its own full-blown graphic novel: I was standing in his office, unbuttoning that worn out shirt, lips pressed to his, begging his tongue to meet mine. His hands were on my hips, grabbing me fiercely. I could feel the tension in his muscles through his fingertips.

"Fuck it."

I couldn't do this. I was only applying for the job out of boredom. Sean was never home and I was stuck in the middle of goddamn Wyoming, for Christ's sake. Now here I was trying to squeeze almost a decade of top-notch experience at one of the toughest police forces in the nation onto a one-page application for a low-paying, low-rank job in the smallest county in the least-populated state in the nation.

Not only that, but I had been in the office for not even ten minutes before I started fantasizing about the alpha male in charge. Apparently, this leopard could not, in fact, change her spots. I wasn't doing this again. A shittier job with a more attractive boss was a Moretti disaster waiting to happen. I crumpled the application, tossed it into the trash and stomped out, more than a little embarrassed for not being nicer to the sweet lady at the desk.

The next day, hearing a knock on the trailer door, I peeked through the window only to see said lanky sheriff leaning against the doorframe. I didn't think he'd give up, so I leaned against the inside frame and slowly opened the door.

"Victoria Moretti?"

"Yes."

"You didn't finish the application." He finger the crumpled piece of paper that had been flattened, somewhat.

"No."

"So do you want the job?"

"No."

"Well then, do you want MY job?"

Now he had my attention. "Maybe…"

"Well you can't have it. Not yet. But in two or three years …." He put a hand on his hip and looked at me through the screen door. "You're obviously over-qualified, and I can't pay you what you're worth, but I need good people. And in a couple years I'll need someone capable to take over. So how about if you try us out and see how it goes?"

I stared at him for at least a minute while he looked back, seemingly not in a hurry for an answer. He was without a doubt the most intriguing man I'd ever seen and god help me, I couldn't pass up the chance to figure out what made this man tick.

How could I have possibly imagined that saying "okay" to Walt Longmire that day would change the course of my life? Yet somehow, deep inside, I knew.


	3. Chapter 3

Note: Dammit! I reloaded this chapter the other day (because typoes) and uploaded the wrong document! And of course, I'm having laptop issues, so ... this chapter is shorter than it used to me. I'll try to fix soon!

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All I Want is You

Chapter 3

My mind came back to the present when I noticed Walt was looking at me, waiting for an answer to a question I hadn't heard him ask.

"Well? What do you think? Is Ferg going to catch our convenience store thief with his spy cameras?"

"They're web cams, Walt, not spy cameras. And yeah, I think he's got a good shot. He's got those things in every Kum n Go from here to Montana, so when our bandit runs out of cash, booze, and Marlboroughs I think he's got a good shot. Damned ingenious solution, too, if you ask me. He set up a county-wide surveillance system using Branch's old equipment and an app and it's not costing us one red cent. He's a resourceful boy, your young man."

Walt stared directly into my eyes with no emotion whatsoever on his face. "I have no idea what you just said."

I couldn't help but grin as I patted his sleeve. "I know you don't. But that's okay, at least you're pretty," I teased.

He started to smile in return but managed to stifle it, not wanting to betray his serious public image, but I saw it. I saw the corner of his mouth curl up ever so slightly, and the briefest amusement flicker in his eyes as he looked at me, before turning back to his lunch. "Well at least I'm good for something."

I was just starting to imagine the things he could be good for when, thank god, the radio squawked. I snatched it off the counter and answered while I shifted in my seat, suddenly feeling that my jeans were way too tight in certain places. "Hey Ruby, what's up?" I choked out in a voice that was slightly too high and too chipper. I'm pretty sure Walt noticed that, too.

"Tell Walt that Sheriff Wilkins has been calling every ten minutes for the last hour and if he doesn't come call him back soon I'm retiring." It was rare for Ruby to get annoyed, but our dear friend from Sheridan had that effect on people.

"Got it, Ruby. We're on our way." Walt was already standing and paying the bill by the time I signed off.

Walking back to the office, I had the urge to wrap my hands around Walt's arm while I walked next to him. Someday, maybe, I'd walk with him like that, but not just yet. When we reached the door, though, he put his hand at the small of my back, ushering me into the foyer like he so often did. That move, from other men, had always irritated the hell out of me, but never with Walt. From him, not only was it welcome, but it wasn't territorial, possessive, or condescending. With him, it was courtesy, respect, and care. An old habit that meant something to him. I used to just tolerate it, but I'd come to appreciate and even enjoy it. And lately it seemed like the hand stayed longer every time.

As soon as we opened the door to the office, Ruby handed Walt at least ten Post-Its and pushed past us, purse in hand. "I'm going to lunch!" she called firmly as she marched toward the stairs. I couldn't help but wonder what Methodist ladies did over lunch when what they really needed was a drink. Maybe a few minutes of gossip with her girlfriends would set her right.

Walt didn't seem to notice Ruby's mood as he read the notes and headed to his office to call Jim. Ferg had been in the office for a few minutes, so he caught me up on the latest while I read my own messages.

Law enforcement is often described as hours of boredom punctuated by moments of terror. While it isn't always terror in Absaroka, things still tended to happen all at once. While Walt was still on the phone, Ferg got a call from one of his convenience store clerks, and I took a radio call about a possible trespasser. I took down the location and started picking up my gear when Walt came out of his office. "What's up?"

"Nothing much. Ferg is playing tech support with one of his 7-11 buddies and I'm headed to a possible breaking and entering out on highway 14." I was halfway to the door when Walt called out.

"Where on 14?"

I stopped and turned, not wanting to tell him. "It's the Gilbert place. No biggie. A BLM officer called it in and said it looks like some of the plywood has been removed. I'm sure it's just squatters. I'm going to check it out. I'll call in when I get there."

Walt didn't pause for a second before he grabbed his hat and coat. "Ferg, stay on dispatch. Vic and I are headed to the Gilbert place."

"Walt, seriously, there's no need for both of us to go. What if we get another call?"

He stopped right in front of me, his face just inches from mine, and answered in a quiet, steady voice. "You are not going out there alone. This is not up for discussion." His warm breath on my face and the piercing look in his eyes paralyzed me. All I could do was answer with a feeble "okay" and follow him out the door. Ferg didn't seem to notice we were leaving.


	4. Chapter 4

All I Want Is You

Chapter 4

While the personal part of me loves when Walt is being protective, the professional side is annoyed and offended when he acts like my personal bodyguard. I was a patrol officer in Philly for Christ's sake, does he think I had an escort everywhere I went? And worse yet, does he think I needed help everywhere I went? He said it himself when he hired me: I'm overqualified for this job. I've faced worse than crazy hermits, rodeo clowns, and sheep herders. But I also know he's an old-school western gentleman, raised to open doors for little ladies and walk on the street-side of the sidewalk lest I get mud splashed on my dress, or whatever the hell that's about. Most of the time he let me do my job without second-guessing, but a few things always set him off, and Chance Gilbert was number one on that list.

I decided I could tolerate him tagging along, but I'd be damned if I was going to let him drive. As we exited the office, I made sure to hit the street first and headed off toward my unit, leaving him behind. He paused for a minute before he followed, deciding not to fight this particular battle, I guess.

It's a good 25 minute drive to the Gilbert place from Durant, which gave me time to get over being annoyed with him, mostly. It also gave me time to start fixating on some things I felt I needed to tell him. With Walt, I never know when I'll have his undivided attention, so I decided to plunge in and see how much I could say before I chickened out.

"So, Walt … there's something I wanted to explain." Out of the corner of my eye, I could see he was watching the road, face propped on his hand and elbow on the door in a familiar pose.

"About what?" he mumbled absently, not really listening.

"Travis," is all I managed before I had to pause and gather my nerve. "Eamonn. The whole thing."

He turned his head slowly to look at me before saying very gently, "you don't have to explain anything, Vic."

"I know I don't, but I want to." He waited while I took a deep breath and started again. "Travis, in particular, is what I want to explain." It was a good thing we were in a moving vehicle. It meant I couldn't change my mind and run away. I was committed now. "I just … I just want you to know that we weren't in a relationship. It was just … stupid. I didn't realize I was still reeling from the divorce, and the Eamonn thing wasn't working out like I hoped it might, and I was drunk and Travis was drunk, and it was the first time in I don't know how long I just let myself be stupid, and I wasn't thinking, and I wasn't worrying, and I was just being silly, and I … I certainly didn't think … I didn't think my lapse in control would end up … like it did."

I finally ran out of words and realized there were tears running down my cheeks. I might have been crying from embarrassment, or from the loss of the pregnancy, but most likely, I was crying from my fear that Walt would hate me, did hate me, for being so stupid and careless. I swallowed hard and blinked my eyes, determined to keep myself together and focus on driving.

Walt stretched out his arm and rested his hand on my shoulder. He looked at me intently and spoke very carefully. "You have nothing to be embarrassed about, nothing to explain. You don't have to beat yourself up over this. You've been through a rough time and it's okay if you didn't handle it perfectly. You don't deserve the consequences you've faced, Vic. You didn't deserve the divorce and you didn't deserve to get pregnant because of a drunken mistake, and you most certainly didn't deserve the miscarriage."

That was it. I couldn't drive any longer. We were in the middle of nowhere, with no cars for as far as I could see. I stopped the truck in the middle of the road and put it in park. I gripped the steering wheel, stared straight ahead, and took deep, ragged breaths to pull myself together.

Walt waited patiently and silently, then spoke again. "I'll tell you something else you don't deserve, Vic. You don't deserve the way I've treated you. You're right. I simultaneously push you away and keep you nearby. I keep you at arm's length, but never let you out of my sight. I don't admit that I need you, that I depend on you. I know what everyone says ... that you're the only one who can "handle" me, that you're the only one who can reach me when I shut myself off from everyone and everything. They're right. You've been my lifeline these last few years and all I've done is push you away and tried to make you think I don't need you. I'm sorry, Vic. I'm sorry for the way I've treated you. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you like you have been for me. I'm sorry I left you to deal with your darkness alone. And I'm sorry I added to it."

It took me a minute to realize he'd stopped talking. Everything he had said was true, but I didn't know how to process it, and the middle of highway 14 wasn't the best place to come to terms with it all. So as usual, I said the first thing that came into my head.

"Damn straight."

I turned my gaze from the road to Walt's face. "You're damn right I don't deserve the way you've treated me. And you know what? I'm done with that shit. You are hereby on notice: the statute of limitations is up on morose, bereaved sheriffs. From now on, I expect some honesty and open communication." He looked a little shocked, or maybe he was scared, or even a little amused, but I was having none of it. "Think you can do that? Think you can manage to tell me what you honestly think and, heaven forbid, feel?"

Now he was definitely amused, but he managed to keep a serious face as he replied. "You got it. I can't guarantee I'll be good at, but I promise to try." His face changed just then, from amused to serious. "I promise, Vic. I will do my best to be honest with you, always. And I want you to be the same with me."

I couldn't think of anything to say, and I didn't want to become any more of a mess than I already was, so I answered as briefly as I could. "Okay then," and threw the truck into drive.


	5. Chapter 5

I was at a standstill on this chapter because, logically, the next scene has to take place at the Gilbert homestead but I didn't know how to tackle that. Luckily for me, inspiration came by way of a review from onewildeechild who said, "Really wish we had gotten into Walt's mind more when Vic was held captive by Chance." Yes! What an interesting thought. So, onewildeechild, THANK YOU!

The chapter after this will most likely be inspired by Rebelwant2B, who said Walt needs to do some explaining about Donna (which is absolutely correct). So you see? Reviews do matter!

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All I Want Is You

Chapter 5

My boss the sheriff studied me carefully as we pulled off the highway and onto the drive that led to the sovereign nation of Gilbert Land, or whatever that lunatic called this place. I know Walt thought being back here would cause me to fall apart or trigger some kind of breakdown, but truth be told, I was fine. I'd been through so much since that day that this place was just a blip in the recent craziness of my life.

Walt turned his attention back to the house and its surroundings as we approached. "Stop here," he instructed, when we were still halfway up the drive. He unlocked my shotgun from the console and got out of the truck. "Get closer, but don't get out of the vehicle until you see I'm in position on the east, closer to the bunkers." Before closing the door, he reached behind the seat, pulled out my Kevlar vest and tossed it to me, then headed into the trees. His vest was in his unit, of course.

"Ten feet tall and bullet proof," I muttered to myself as I watched him disappear.

I slowly pulled the unit up to the house, careful to stop behind one of the many piles of junk before getting out. Dutifully, I put on the vest before unholstering my sidearm. I checked the area as best as I could and waited until I saw Walt before approaching the structure.

I was feeling a little silly about all the caution, but reminded myself just how crazy these people are. Checking the perimeter, I saw nothing to indicate anyone had been near the place in a very long while. The doors were secure and plywood still covered the windows. I made my way all the way around the place and met up with Walt near the notorious underground bunkers. He was already checking them as I approached.

"Geez, the Feds sure made their usual mess of this place, didn't they?" Leaving nothing to chance, the various federal agencies had pretty much unearthed and exposed all of Chance's carefully constructed storehouses.

"Leave no stone unturned," Walt surmised as we surveyed their work. "I guess they take it personally when one of their compatriots ends up in a freezer."

I continued to check the property for signs of trespassers and didn't notice when Walt stepped away, walking a bit away from the mess and coming to stop near the place he'd shot Chance – the place I'd found him when I came back that night. The night I knowingly left Sean to go back to the only person who mattered.

When I finally noticed him, he was standing very still, staring off into the distance. By the way he was holding the shotgun, I knew he was no longer on alert and had come to the same conclusion I had – there was nothing here to worry about. Yet, seeing him like that worried me. I could tell his mind was elsewhere. Was he remembering that night? Was he aware of just how panicked I was when I thought he was dead? I holstered my sidearm and walked toward him, stopping a few feet away. I waited to see if he'd say anything before I interrupted his thoughts.

"Looks like you're doing that thing you do sometimes..." When he turned to look at me, I gave him a mischievous smile, the one I know he likes. "…thinking?" My question had the desired affect and he smiled a bit, but just barely. I switched back to concerned mode and continued. "What's going on? Anything I can help with?"

He slowly turned and looked at the house again. I could tell he was replaying the events of that night, but I couldn't tell which part was bothering him. I did my best to be patient and let him take his time.

When he finally spoke, it was in that low, quiet rumble. The voice he uses when it's just the two of us and he's sharing something important. "I thought I'd lost you that night." He paused the way he does, taking time with the words. "When I figured out who had you, I guessed how bad it could be. I knew he'd try to hurt you, and I knew you'd fight back with everything you had. I didn't see any way it was going to end well, and I was ready to fight to the death to get to you." He turned back toward me and I unconsciously stepped toward him. His breathing was shallow and quick, like he was panicked now, and his words came quicker. "I was willing to fight to the death, because without you, I was already dead. But when I saw you, and saw you were okay, my heart started beating again. Nothing mattered except that you were safe."

The lump that had formed in my throat kept me from swallowing or making a sound. The tears that filled my eyes kept me from seeing. I reached out and clutched the first thing my hand found, the fabric of his shirt. I could feel his hands on my shoulders, pulling me near. I let my arms circle his waste under the warmth of his coat and rested my forehead against his chest. His arms surrounded me and we just stood still, not moving or talking.

When I could see and speak, I turned and took a few steps away from him so I could say what I needed. "I knew you'd come. I knew you'd figure out where we were. That certainty that you would come kept me focused. It meant I didn't have to fight our way out, all I had to do was keep everyone alive until you got there. I knew without a doubt that once you did, we'd all be alright." I paused for a few minutes, trying to decide just how much I wanted to confess. "When I heard the shots, I assumed you'd arrived, so when they threw that body bag down …" This is the part I wasn't sure I could get out. My throat tightened, making it hard to talk, but I did my best. "I thought it was you." The tears and emotion returned, making it increasingly hard to talk. "And I panicked. The most panicked I've ever been in my life. And Sean saw it. He saw my desperation at the thought of losing you." He waited while I gathered the nerve to continue. "And that was it. That was the moment Sean knew the marriage was over. He knew he couldn't compete with my devotion to you, and I knew I had lost the battle to hide it."

After a minute or so, I was able to turn and look at him. I expected to see pity on his face, but there was none. He just looked peaceful… normal. Like we hadn't just bared our biggest fears to each other. I'm sure I was the one who looked uncomfortable. I didn't know what to say or where to go. I wasn't prepared to get any deeper or carry the topic any further, yet I didn't know how to walk away from this moment. It finally occurred to me that he was the one who started this conversation. He was the one who shared he thought he was going to lose me. Well, that was a topic I could handle.

"I'm not going anywhere, Walt. I'm safe, you're safe, and we're not going anywhere. Either of us. We're a team, you and me. We've proved that, time and again, haven't we?"

He didn't answer, so I decided to get us both out of this conversation. "Now, what do you say we go make sure the rest of the county is as quiet as this place?" With that, I turned and walked back to my unit, knowing he'd follow.


	6. Chapter 6

All I Want Is You

Chapter 6

The drive to town was filled with radio and phone calls and we were back at the station before we knew it. The rest of the day was blissfully uneventful, so after making sure Ferg got his meal break, I took off.

Travis was thankfully absent from our little community of misfits, so I was able to be alone for the first time in over 36 hours. I usually enjoy my down time, but after spending those 36 hours with Walt, I felt disjointed and off balance. Walt was typically a constant presence in my thoughts, like a song always playing in the background, but today the song was loud and demanding all of my attention. We'd shared so much today, but instead of the rejection we both feared, we were closer than ever. What had he called me? Lifeline? Had he really said he didn't care if he was alive if I wasn't? He never said anything about love or affection, just dependence. That had a bit of an unhealthy ring to it.

The quiet of my trailer did nothing to silence the cacophony of my thoughts. I wanted to stop processing and just relax, so I decided to find the noisiest place I could. A noisy place with good food, preferably, so I headed to the Red Pony, of course.

Henry greeted me as soon as I approached the bar. "Vic. You are right on time. Your food is almost ready."

Henry was always a bit spooky, but fixing dinner before I showed up was too prescient even for him. "My food?"

"Yes. Walt called it in. Trout for two." The Bear paused for a minute, looking just a little confused. "That is your usual order, correct?"

"Yeah. Perfect. I just … didn't realize he'd done that." I picked up the food, not knowing what else to do. I guess I was taking dinner to Walt's. "He paid, right?"

"I will catch him tomorrow. Enjoy your evening."

I barely remembered to say thanks as I turned to head for the door. Henry had that look on his face, the one that makes him look like he knows something no one else does. Come to think of it, that was his normal look.

I didn't think to call Walt to tell him I had his food. In fact, I didn't think much at all on the drive to his place, except to wonder why he ordered food for two and why Henry assumed I was the Plus One. The only answer I could come up with for both questions was, "of course he did."

Walt opened the door before I reached the steps, and had the decency to look a little uncomfortable. His greeting of "beer's cold" wasn't much of a clue to his state of mind.

"You … ordered food? For me? For us?" He self-consciously rubbed his chin and gave me that look that said he didn't know exactly what to say.

"Yeah, well, I was actually planning on delivering, until Henry called to say you were on your way." He shut the door behind me as I entered, still holding the bag like I wasn't sure what to do with it. He took it and headed to the kitchen. "Table or couch?" he asked, while retrieving the beer from the fridge.

"Porch," I decided, leaving him to bring the food and beer. My thinking was that, if the conversation was awkward, at least we'd have something to look at.

We enjoyed Henry's trout while making small talk about the day, but after the food was gone and the second beers were opened, something had to give.

"So … if you ordered food and planned to deliver it, I'm guessing there's something you wanted to say?" I raised an eyebrow as I asked, just to make sure he knew he wasn't getting out of this without an explanation.

He settled down into his chair and stared at the horizon. He had that look that told me he was planning his words carefully. "I told you some things today. True things. Things I've needed to say for far too long." I let him breathe and think and tried not to look impatient. I've learned, with Walt, that it's best to be comfortable with the silences and not rush in too soon. In letting him take his time, I get much more out of him than I expect. Pushing him just makes him shut down. He's a bit like a feral animal. If you sit still, he'll come to you. If you approach him, he runs away. "You told me some things, too. Things you didn't have to say. You trusted me … and I'm honored." He shifted in his chair, like he wasn't sure what to say next. "I guess it's weighing on my mind that I owe a few explanations myself."

"No, Walt, you don't owe me anything…"

"Yeah I do," he interrupted. "I do." There was that long pause again. He filled it by taking a drink. "Ever since I've know you, you've been nothing but supportive and accepting, much more than I've been with you. You've been patient, even while I took my anger out on you. I've known I could count on you, so I guess I want to explain … why I didn't do that."

Thankfully, the sun had set and the porch was dark, shadowing our faces, making a buffer around all the truth. I think it made it easier for him, knowing he only had to think about his words, not about my reaction to them. He leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees, looking like he'd made a decision.

"I treated Lizzie terribly. I wasn't ready, and wasn't even interested. In fact, I found her really annoying." I chuckled out loud and he smiled just a bit. "But she was just so persistent, and I just never figured out how to tell her to go away." I wanted to laugh again and tell him I would have been happy to help with that, but this was his story. "Then something odd happened with her. I started to like her. She was so transparent. She really is who she appears to be… happy, bubbly, kind, with apparently not a care in the world… and she liked me. It occurred to me that for the first time since before I was married, I was free to respond to a woman who was flirting with me." He stopped and took another drink. It was getting harder for him to continue. He took a deep breath and dived in. "She offered … and at first I walked away … then I told myself I was being stupid. What kind of man says 'no' to that? So I accepted her offer … and I felt terrible." He glanced my way and I did my best to keep my face frozen in a look that I hoped was neutral and accepting. I doubt I succeeded. "I didn't love her. I didn't care for her enough to take that step. It was false, and I wasn't ready." The pause this time was longer. "I felt like I was cheating. On Martha." There it was. The real reason.

He leaned back in his chair again and stretched his arm out toward me. His hand came to rest on my arm. He left it there, slowly stroking my skin with his thumb. He turned to look at me and I thought he was about to bring me into the story, but he looked back at the darkness before he continued. "I wasn't upset when she got mad. I guess I was relieved. It saved me from having to figure out how to end it. I never spoke to her after that, except for forced small talk when our paths cross. It was a coward's way out, and I'm ashamed."

He took a few more swallows of his beer and I stayed silent. I didn't want to break the spell of this place where Walt actually shared his soul. But after I drained my beer, and he looked like he wasn't going to continue, I decided to take advantage of the darkness and the mood and press forward. "And Donna? What was that about?"

"Oh, god … I don't know." He reclaimed his hand, sighed a few more sighs, and stared off into that place in the darkness where it seemed he stored his thoughts. When he had them lined up properly, he continued. "Donna was one of the few women, since Martha, that actually got my attention. I guess you could say she jump-started something that Lizzie couldn't. She felt like an equal. She was challenging. She didn't seem vulnerable. I didn't want a repeat of Lizzie, where I felt like I was taking advantage. I wanted it to work with her, but it was forced. It was like I was forcing myself to move on, forcing myself to heal. I still didn't have the closure I needed..." he paused for a few more breaths, "and she wasn't what I thought. On the surface, she seemed steady, and honest. But I guess she was just as messed up as the rest of us." With that he gave me a little smile. I guess he was including me in that group of messed up people.

"I'm sorry, Vic." He was leaning toward me know, very serious. "I know I've treated you terribly. Through all of this… Lizzie, Donna, my fixation on Martha … you've been the steady one." He stood up rather suddenly, standing at the edge of the porch and looking out, then slowly turning back to me. He sat on the rail and looked at me, and finally spoke. "I said Donna was one of the few women who got my attention. You were the other. From the moment I met you, you've had my attention. But the way I felt about you, it made me question myself. You're young. You were married. I'm your boss. I was grieving. I knew I had no business thinking of you as anything other than an employee. Maybe a friend, but nothing more." He turned away, but kept speaking. "I'm not stupid, Vic. I knew you were flirting with me. I knew we had a connection we couldn't define. And I liked it. You made me feel alive. You challenged me. You forced me to function, which started me healing. After I while, I didn't care if you were married, and I had no intention of pursuing anything with you. It was enough just to have you around. When you were married, you were safe. I knew where we stood. I knew the boundaries."

He stopped again, and eventually turned to face me. "But after your divorce, I was in uncharted territory. I suddenly didn't know how to interact with you. So I shut you out. I denied how I felt, even to myself." He paused again, looking like it was causing him pain to continue. "But I'm glad I shut you out, Vic. I know I hurt you, but I also spared you. I made terrible mistakes with Lizzie and Donna, but it wasn't them, it was me. I'd have made those mistakes no matter who I was with. I wasn't ready to move on. I hadn't reached the closure I needed after Martha's death. I was obsessed and I was in a dark place. I couldn't pull you down there with me." He paused again and the pain of the memories showed on his face. "I mean… I know you were there with me, and you tried to pull me out … but had we been in a relationship, a romantic relationship, I don't think it would have survived. I would have made all those mistakes with you, and I would have hurt you in ways that couldn't have been repaired." He looked straight into my eyes. "So I'm sorry I hurt you, but I'm glad I had the strength to push you away."

I realized there were tears running down my face and I was once again thankful for the darkness. Slowly, Walt pushed away from the rail and came toward me. Kneeling in front of me, he rested his hands on the chair on either side of me. "I'm in uncharted territory again, Vic. For the first time since we met, we're both untangled from other demands. At least, I think we are. I feel like there's an open horizon in front of us, and god help me, I don't know what to do."

"What do you want to do, Walt?"

He closed his eyes, and breathed out his answer. "I want to be with you. I want to ask you to never leave my side again. I want to wake up with you in the morning, work with you all day, and come home with you at night. But …"

I was definitely crying now. "BUT?! But what? How can there be a 'but' after all that?"

He placed his hands on my hips and pulled me closer to him. "But… I'm guessing … I'm guessing you want more than I can give. I'm guessing you want kids, a normal house, a normal life, a wedding, safety, stability. I'm guessing you want to grow old with someone…"

He appeared to have finally run out of words. I moved closer to him, placed my hands on either side of his head, and rested my forehead on his. "Well, you're guessing wrong. Because all I want, Walt… all I want is you."


	7. Chapter 7

Note: Please accept my apology for the fragments and run-ons. Consider it stream-of-consciousness.

Also, ten points and a pat on the back to anyone who can name the inspiration for the title.

And PS, this is done. This is the "riding off into the sunset" chapter. Just normal, happy life after this.

XXXXXXXXXX

All I Want Is You

Chapter 7

I don't know who moved first. Maybe we both did, but suddenly, I was kissing Walt and he was kissing me. I didn't think about it or plan it. It was just that, even though we were face to face, I wanted to be closer to him, like I needed to breathe the air in his lungs. Our lips melded and our tongues danced like we were used to it, like it was the most natural thing in the world. And it was. This man had had my heart for so long, kissing him was instinct.

It seemed to be the same for him. There was no uncertainty, no awkwardness. The hands that rested on my hips drew me closer to him as my fingers wound themselves into his hair. For the first time in a very long time, I wasn't worrying about anything, I was just kissing Walt, and my soul felt light. I felt like I was home, maybe for the first time in my life.

"Come inside with me," he breathed, as he stood and pulled me up with him. When he stretched to his full height and our lips parted, I grabbed his hand and walked to the door, pulling him after me.

Once inside, I didn't stop or turn back to him. I was afraid if I stopped we'd never make it to the bed, and I didn't want to do this halfway. As he paused to close the door, I let go of his hand and continued to the bedroom. By the time he joined me I had my shoes off and shirt unbuttoned. He arrived in time to push it off my shoulders while our lips met again.

We didn't hurry or rush anything. We weren't frantic or desperate. We took our time, like we knew we had the rest of our lives for this, because that's how we felt. We weren't stealing a moment, we were starting a journey. I'm so used to being in control that it has always been hard for me to be in the moment. Maybe that was the difference. I wasn't focused on the act, I was focusing on the experience of completely sharing myself with the person I loved. It didn't matter what we did, as long as we were together.

At some point, I had a moment of detachment, almost an out-of-body experience. I was suddenly aware that Walt Longmire was making love to me. I'd fantasized about this, ached for it, dreamed about it. At times, long before there was a possibility of us being together, I was so sure of my feelings for him, so sure we'd be together, that when I thought about him I felt like I was seeing the future. There were times when I was so sure of our connection, that I just knew we'd be here someday. Of course, there had been doubts too, many of them, but now my consciousness interrupted for just a moment to say, "this is it, this is what you knew was coming. It's here, it's happened, no more waiting." And in that moment, I gasped – a great, quaking gasp. Like a woman coming to the surface while drowning. Like my soul was free to breathe, and I hadn't even realized it had been holding its breath. When I gasped, new air filled my lungs, and a new spirit filled my soul. My body gasped too, pulling Walt deeper, greedily taking all he was offering, never intending to let go.

The release was intoxicating. My world changed. This was a new world – a world with Walt in it. A world where I knew I was loved and actually had what I wanted. A part of me was frightened, ever so briefly, that this was fleeting, but then I looked at Walt's face and what I saw there was real. The love he told me about was real. It was right here, and I knew it wouldn't fade.

We didn't talk, afterward. For the longest time, we just held each other. We lay still and quiet and let our hands roam over each other, like we were still convincing ourselves this wasn't a dream.

Just when he was about to drift off to sleep, there was one thing I needed him to hear.

"You're wrong, Walt. About what you think I want, and what you think you can't give. Being with you is the stability I want. This is a normal house. We have a normal life. Of course I may want kids someday, and I believe you want that, too. Yes, I want to grow old with someone, and that someone is you. I meant what I said. This life is what I want, just like this, just more of it. More of you. All I want, Walt, all I want is you."


End file.
